Letter's To My Friends
by spikesduck
Summary: Sometime between S4 and S5 Potter calls the gang together to give them somthing from the late, great Henry Blake
1. Chapter 1

Letters to My Friends

**Author – **Benaboo

**Rating **– PG 13

**Genre – **Comedy/Drama

**Characters – **Hawkeye, BJ, Radar, Margaret, Klinger, Frank, Colonel Potter and the late great Henry Blake

**Warnings – **Some comedic elements in this one, but mostly drama.

**Setting – **Takes place during season 5 of MASH, after Margaret announces her engagement to Donald Penobscot

**Title – **I had the idea that Henry Blake wrote some letters to his MASH buddies in case something ever happened to him, and this is what came of it.

**Notes** – This is new territory for me, writing in the MASH universe. I love the show, and I really wanted to dabble in it and see what would come of it. Please let me know what you think of it.

**Chapter One**

Dr. Benjamin Pierce, Hawkeye or Hawk to his friends and family, sat on his cot reading one of the latest updated medical journals to come out in the last 6 months that had just been delivered that morning. He knew there were more recent ones, but being in Korea meant getting them two months or longer behind the doctors in the States. He wasn't very happy about that since the staff he worked with did meatball surgery very near the front lines, they should get them faster than they did. There was no way to complain about it though, this he knew, not that it would do him any good. At least they got them and there was plenty of time, too much time in fact to read them when they eventually arrived. Having anything to read at all broke up the boredom, but saving kid's lives were more important, and Hawkeye would never complain about anything such as that.

Or would he?

"BJ."

His fellow captain, doctor, and friend had laid down on his own cot a couple hours earlier, falling asleep while reading one of the journals himself, the material covering his mouth so that only the tip of his nose was sticking out over the pages. That wasn't what was annoying the head surgeon of the 4077th MASH unit they were currently stationed at. What did bother him was B.J. Hunnicutt's very loud snoring, which Hawkeye had tried to ignore for the last few minutes but couldn't take much more of at that point.

"B.J.!" B.J. stirred, still not waking even though his hand reached up and sent the journal falling to the floor in a loud thwack.

Hawkeye shouted this time, wondering if it wasn't one of those dreams B.J had about being back in California, laying on a hammock between a couple of fruit trees with Peg and Erin. He felt a little guilty, but that was a dream and this was Korea, so his selfishness to have peace and quiet won out over his conscious.

"B.J.! Wake up already would ya; before I tape you're mouth shut!"

Hunnicutt did indeed hear him this time and sat up quick on the cot, looking around the "swamp" with wide, tired eyes. When he finally focused he looked at his bunk mate, and stumbling over his words a bit tried to talk being half asleep that he was.

"Am I late for my OR shift?" He asked, puzzled, and hurrying to pull on his standard issue army boots.

Pierce tossed his own journal down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No that's not until tomorrow morning, but by how loud you were snoring we should check to see if any of our patients are asking if Korea is prone to earthquakes."

Hunnicutt continued to pull on his boots glaring at Pierce as he did so. "Oh, ha ha!" He took a glance at the third cot in the tent, unoccupied and neatly made boot camp style. "I see Frank got up with the rooster this morning."

"MacAurter's very own personal mother hen."

"You know Hawk; this is two weeks straight he's been on the para military kick. It's driving me to drink more than usual." B.J. eyed the makeshift still between the cots.

Hawkeye started pulling on his own boots. "When he woke up this morning he wanted me to get dressed and supervise the digging of new latrines he wants done over by Sophie's stall. He insisted," He held up his fingers in a quotation gesture. "They should be on that side of the compound so the flies stay in one place."

B.J. roared with laughter. "Colonel's gonna love that one. He's due back today."

Before Pierce could answer the sound of a jeep pulling into the compound, its horn blaring interrupted their conversation. He gave his roommate an impressed look.

"I didn't know you were psychic!"

Hunnicutt just smiled. "Just half psychic; on my mother's side."

The head surgeon stood up, and in a dramatic gesture opened the door. "Do you see any new nurses in my future?"

"I knew you were gonna ask that!" B.J. departed the tent, Hawkeye skipping out behind and up beside him, making their way to the jeep Colonel Potter was already out of, offering Major Houlihan a hand to get out of the passenger side door, as Corporal Radar O'Reilly was coming out of Potter's office.

"Radar!" "Right here sir!" The Colonel and Radar said at the same time.

Potter looked a little irritated with Radar's weird sixth sense but he didn't bring it up. "Radar, round up my doctors and get Klinger for a meeting in my office, on the double!"

Radar pushed his glasses up his nose and saluted. "Yes sir, but Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt are right behind you sir."

The Colonel turned around and took in the two doctors that were the glue of his most recent MASH assignment. The honest and gentle B.J. Hunnicutt, and the clown of a ladies man Hawkeye Pierce. Two of the finest surgeons he'd ever had the pleasure of observing and working with in his career as a doctor and military officer thus far. Sure, they got on his nerves more times than he could count, Pierce especially, but when the chips were down and the casualties started to roll in there were no two people he was more than fortunate to have at his command. He still felt like the new kid some days, but with them around he found the transition easier than he had ever expected it to be. He was grateful for that.

"Pierce, Hunnicutt. Have you seen Klinger or Frank around today?"

Hunnicutt shrugged. "Sorry Colonel, I haven't seen either of them since last night's 50th showing of _The Omaha Trail."_

Pierce piped up. "I saw Frank this morning but I think he was on his way to the latrines, wanted my help of all things."

Potter furrowed his brow. "The latrines?"

Hunnicutt smiled. "Must be something wrong with his fly."

"I see. Well, I need him to be there, I have something for all of you and it's best to just do the entire corral at once."

"I'll see if I can find him Colonel." Margaret said, walking away as Pierce called after her.

"Look at the latrines; he's making the flies a home of their own!" She just huffed and kept on walking, Pierce and Hunnicutt's laughter fading as they followed Potter into his office to find out what was so important.


	2. Chapter 2

Letters to My Friends

**Author – **Benaboo

**Rating **– PG 13

**Genre – **Comedy/Drama

**Characters – **Hawkeye, BJ, Radar, Margaret, Klinger, Frank, Colonel Potter and the late great Henry Blake

**Warnings – **Some comedic elements in this one, but mostly drama.

**Setting – **Takes place during season 5 of MASH, after Margaret announces her engagement to Donald Penobscot

**Title – **I had the idea that Henry Blake wrote some letters to his MASH buddies in case something ever happened to him, and this is what came of it.

**Notes** – Ok this is the second chapter, and I'm gonna be gone for a few weeks so there won't be any new chapters for a bit. Also because I want to do the actual letter writing justice. I want to do this story justice. So all I ask is that you just be patient with me. Enjoy.

Bena

**Chapter Two**

Colonel Sherman T. Potter took a seat behind his desk while Pierce and Hunnicutt sat down in the chairs across from him. They were goofing about, and he let them do it, since he knew that shortly the laughter and jokes would be replaced with tears and sadness. So he let them have their fun, as there was no reason in his mind not to.

The doors swung open minutes later, Major Houlihan walking through followed very closely by Major Frank Burns, or as Pierce dubbed him, 'Ferret Face'. The colonel couldn't help but smile at that, since he wasn't the major's biggest fan, but he kept it under his hat. As commanding officer he couldn't afford to laugh at him… much.

The majors' both saluted and said "present and accounted for sir!" at the same time, which drove the two captains in front of him to burst into fresh laughter. Margaret shot them an annoyed glance and Frank and angry glare, of course, and couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"What are you two bozos yucking about?" He asked his patented sneer plain on his face.

Hunnicutt stifled his laughter and looked at him. "Correction Frank; I'm the bozo and he's the clown." He pointed at his fellow captain and doctor. "And we only Yuck when something's yucky."

Frank snapped back at him. "Oh shut up!"

Hawkeye just smiled. "Yuck yuck Frank."

Margaret rolled her eyes and raised her voice. "Oh, why don't all of you shut up? You're acting like a bunch of children!"

Hawkeye looked at her with mock seriousness. "Yes Mother Margaret, as long as you promise not to use the ruler. My hands are every sensitive."

As the four officers all started talking at once, throwing insults and yelling at one another, Radar entered the room, Corporal Maxwell Klinger right behind him. Max Klinger, in his usual "Section 8" style, was wearing a yellow frock dress, the neckline, sleeves, and hem sewn with miniature lacy daisies. He topped it off by accentuating with dangling pearl earrings, two inch white pumps, and a white handbag with yellow trim. As far as his ideas for getting a section 8 went it was tame, but Colonel Potter had learned rather quickly to take the over dramatic Klinger with a grain of salt. As General Steele used to say back in the Great War, 'sometimes a bit of an infection is good for a wound.' Then again the general was currently spending time in a padded cell at a secure military bases, weaving baskets and counting what sane brain cells he still had left in his head.

\the commanding officer shook off those thoughts and stood up, authority in his voice as he brought his meeting to order. "Settle down folks, time to get started." They did not hear him, however, still bickering and screaming at each other. Irritated, he put his fingers to his mouth and let out a long, sharp whistle so loud the two corporals had to cover their ears. Everyone fell silent and rapt with attention immediately.

Klinger took his hands down and regarded the colonel with a respectful look. "I'm impressed Sherm! I had no idea a man of you're age could belt it out like that! How about you whistle us a little show tune?"

"Knock it off private, now isn't the time!" Klinger thought to say something more but the look and tone in Potter's voice made him think twice about it.

"So what's going on Colonel?" B.J. asked. "Seems serious."

Sherman pulled out the leather satchel he had brought back with him from Tokyo and laid it on his desk. "Indeed Hunnicutt, but I'm involving you indirectly, to lend morale to you're fellow comrades." B.J. looked at him, puzzled by that statement, but didn't say a word as Potter opened the bag and pulled out a stack of envelopes.

Pierce felt a sudden wave of sadness as he took in Potter's demeanor. "What is it Colonel?" he asked, tone solemn. Without saying a word the elderly commander handed him an envelope and took in the captain's reaction as he did so. Pierce took it, looked at the writing that spelled his name, and his head shot up to give the colonel a very sad and disturbed look.

"This is Henry's handwriting." He said plainly, his voice reflecting that same sadness, and Potter could swear his head surgeon was about to cry, not that he could blame him.

Margaret spoke, surprise and sadness just as obvious. "Colonel Blake? That's not possible since he's…" she couldn't finish her sentence, or hold back the tears for that matter, as they fell silently down her cheeks.

The colonel did his very best to keep things calm, feeling sympathy for the loss of their previous commanding officer. "Because he's dead, I know major, and that is still true. Colonel Henry Blake did die in that plane crash, I'm sorry."

Everyone was too shocked to speak except Hunnicutt, who addressed the situation. "How did you come by this sir?" He gestured towards the envelopes.

It was times like this that the colonel appreciated B.J. Hunnicutt, since they were both new to the MASH 4077th. The San Franciscan doctor had a calm head in most emotional ordeals such as this. He continued to talk to him as he let it sink in with the others.

"It was the main reason I went to Tokyo in the first place. Colonel Blake…" but Radar interrupted.

"He was afraid he'd never make it back home, that something would happen to him and he'd never see Lorraine and his kids again. He used to tell me that…"

Several minutes of silence passed this time, as they thought about Henry and what Radar had just revealed to them. Even Frank Burns kept quiet, which he colonel was grateful for, since he would have been lynched had he opened his mouth, and he wasn't quite sure he'd have stopped it. Potter took that time to hand out the envelopes.

Major Houlihan, crying, and her face showing a rare emotionally charged moment in front of the men in the room, stood up, Burns mimicking her action to the letter.

"If you don't mind sir, I'd like to be dismissed."

Frank nodded. "Me too colonel, I'd like to be dismissed as well."

Potter nodded. "Go ahead majors; dismissed." Houlihan gave a salute, turned and walked out, Frank doing the same and leaving right on her heels.

When they were gone he cleared his throat and continued speaking. "There was a letter for Captain McIntyre as well they told me, but they sent it off to Boston days ago."

Hawk nodded and stood up himself. "I think the major had the right idea. I need to be alone." Unlike Margaret he didn't ask to be dismissed, as Radar followed him out, but Potter didn't hold it against him.

On the other side of Potter's office door, Radar caught up to the Captain before he could make it outside. "Sir?" The boy from Ottumwa, IA asked carefully, not wanting to get his head chewed off, just in case.

Hawkeye turned to him, and with compassion in his voice for the young corporal in front of him, responded in kind. "What is it Radar?"

He held out his envelope, fright in his eyes. "I don't think I can read it."

Hawkeye's heart broke for the kid. It was hard enough being in a war so far from home, but it was even harder to lose such good friends that made you're stay in a hell hole in Korea so much better. They had all loved Henry, some of them closer to him than others, but no one as much as Radar. Colonel Henry Blake loved Radar more than anyone in this man's army, and looked out for him as if he was his own son.

And Radar had looked up to him as a father, which he never had at home, his own dying when he was very young. Henry Blake had meant that much to him, this Pierce knew, and getting these now was bringing up all the sadness of losing him up all over again. It was upsetting for everyone, but he knew it was a worse kick in the gut for Radar than any of them, himself included.

Pierce sighed, keeping his tone soft. "It's from Henry, Radar."

Radar shoved the envelope further in his face. "I know that! I just can't read it!"

Pierce took it and gave the boy a pitying look. "Ok, I'll just hold onto it for you until you're ready to read it."

"I won't. I have stuff to do now." Pierce put it in his pocket as Radar left outside, careful not to damage it in any way. Pierce made his way back to the "swamp" to imbibe large amounts of the homemade, rotgut gin in the still and wallow a bit to prepare for whatever was written in his envelope. However, Radar would not leave his thoughts, and he knew the kid would be back to see him.

'He'll want to read it later; he just needs time to calm down.' Pierce thought. 'And I'll keep it on me until he does.'


	3. Chapter 3

Letters to My Friends

**Author – **Benaboo

**Rating **– PG 13

**Genre – **Comedy/Drama

**Characters – **Hawkeye, BJ, Radar, Margaret, Klinger, Frank, Colonel Potter and the late great Henry Blake

**Warnings – **Some comedic elements in this one, but mostly drama.

**Setting – **Takes place before season 5 of MASH, right before Margaret announces her engagement to Donald Penobscot

**Title – **I had the idea that Henry Blake wrote some letters to his MASH buddies in case something ever happened to him, and this is what came of it.

**Notes** – Chapter Three! Sorry it took so long, lots to do and lots to write! I'll have this summed up in five chapters total, I've decided that. In the meantime, enjoy the next installment =)

Bena

**Chapter Three**

Max Klinger sat on the cot in his tent, holding his letter with a sad, wistful smile on his face. He wanted to read it so many times, but he kept putting it off since the Colonel gave it to him a couple hours prior, insisting instead to wait until Zale got there with the bottle of whiskey he requested. He knew deep down there was no way he could read through Henry Blake's last words to him while he was sober.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew the sergeant was banging on the door and shouting his name. Startled awake, he jumped off the cot, and yelled back.

"Klinger? You in there?"

"Yeah, come on in!"

The door opened, Sergeant Zale stepping in and holding the door ajar with his foot, a bottle of a cheaper whiskey Max could afford waggling in his hand. He looked tired, as he had just come off his shift a couple minutes earlier, probably running around camp looking for a bottle to put into the Corporal's hands.

"I hope you can appreciate how tough it was for me to get my hands on this bottle alone Klinger."

"I do." He went to his little box where he kept all his jewelry and handed the Sergeant a string of pearls his wife had sent him when they first got married. "Here they are, as per our agreement."

Zale took the pearls and smiled broadly. "Hey, hey hey. My girl is gonna love these. Thanks man."

"Anytime. It was good doing business with you." The sergeant nodded and left, leaving Maxwell to his letter, his whiskey, and his personal devices.

Less than an hour later more than half the bottle was gone, and Corporal Maxwell Klinger held the sealed envelope in his shaky, drunken hands. He was nervous, and almost didn't want to open it, but he knew he had to honor Henry's memory. Taking a deep breath he carefully folded one end of it and tore it gently off, and slid out the folded letter. One more deep breath and he opened the letter and began to read Blake's printed neat script jumping off the page at him:

_Hey Klinger,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, and in your favorite dress that it just happens to be this day. I hope it's that blue fuzzy 1920's number. Gosh, I really like that one!_

_If you're reading this I didn't make it out of Korea. That's how it goes sometimes. When your number's up there isn't much you can do, it's just your time to go. I didn't want to go though, without letting you know that despite your crazy section 8 antics, you really made my tour in Korea interesting. The kind of interesting that makes memories until you die of old age, and the kind that you think of, I'm sure, when you're life flashes before you're eyes._

_Take it easy Klinger. And for Pete's sake take it easy on the new commanding officer! He may not have the patience to put up with you like I did!_

_Regards,_

_Colonel Henry Blake_

_P.S. Of course, if the new commanding officer is Frank, you have my complete blessing to drive him as nuts as you want to._

Klinger downed the last of his bottle, laid on his cot, and kept re reading the letter until he passed out, crying silent tears in an alcohol induced stupor. When he woke up the next morning he would wash his pillow case so no one would notice what he had been through during the night.

_**The following was received in Boston, Massachusetts by the wife of one Dr. Trapper McIntire; a few weeks after Potter handed out the others to his officers:**_

_Hey Trap,_

_So listen, I know there's not much when it comes to words between men, so I'll keep it brief. Take care of Radar, you and Pierce. You both know there's no reason young men his age should be fighting in any war, much less the senseless one we're in now._

_I'm dead. If any harm comes to him I'll haunt your behinds for the rest of your life._

_Take care. Thanks for all the crazy and wacky times we went through together. It was worth every moment, getting shipped over here so far away from home just to get to know you._

_Henry_

Major Margaret Houlihan was bristling, and that was putting it very mildly.

"Get out Frank!" Her angry voice raised a couple octaves above what was considered normal.

"But Margaret…"

She interrupted him, the tone of her voice worked into a nice, strong snit. "I don't want to hear it Frank!" She pronounced his name concisely and with the venom of a cobra. "Take you're sorry butt, you're stupid, married sorry butt out of my tent now!" The octaves rose even higher, reaching outside and to the ears of the entire camp. The other officers, enlisted men, and nurses just smiled, some of them shaking their heads, other rolling their eyes. They'd heard spats between the majors worse than this before.

Major Frank Burns put an insolent look on his face and spat out some harsh words himself. "This is because of that stupid letter from that fink Colonel Blake isn't it?" he asked and she huffed, even more irritated than before. "What did he say about me Margaret?"

The Major flared her nostrils in anger. "It's not respectful to talk ill of the dead Frank."

He softened; worried she'd kick him out of her life. "Margaret, twinkle fuzz, don't do this to me! You know I love you!"

"You don't love me Frank." She said flatly.

"I do! I don't let just any woman paint my toes!"

Houlihan bored her eyes into his with steel determination. "Do you love me enough to leave your wife Frank?"

"You know I can't Margaret, I have to…"

She pushed past him and slammed open her tent door. "Out!"

"I can't leave her! She'll hurt me Margaret, really bad!"

She gave him a shove out the door. "Get out!"

"Margaret!"

"Out, out out out out!" she screamed, pushing him over and over until he was, indeed, outside her tent door and she let it slam between them.

She could hear his voice, angry now, from the other side of the door. "Fine then! I want my picture of General McArthur back by tomorrow morning!"

She shut her eyes until it was quiet. When she was sure Frank had really gone away she opened them to see the letter on her desk. She had already read it several times, to the point of memorization. She couldn't count the number of time her and Henry Blake butted heads over something, anything, but he had been a human being and a good friend even as a C.O. There wasn't a single person in the camp, Frank excluded, who didn't have some affection for him.

Margaret walked to the desk and picked up the letter delicately in both hands, perusing Henry's last words to her, unable to hold her tears back any longer. She had no idea that he cared even a smidge of what his words on the page in front of her conveyed and confirmed. She always gave him a hard time and now she regretted that, her last memory of him kissing her just to piss off Frank before he took his doomed flight. She felt so remorseful and extremely sad she would never have the chance to make things right with him.

His letter made things right with her.

She didn't have to read it all. That wasn't the important part of the letter. It was nice to read what he had been thinking and how much he admired her stance on thing, and respected how she challenged him on a daily basis. It made her feel good to know that had been the way he viewed her. He valued her as an officer, a nurse, and most importantly a woman working in a military dominated almost completely by men.

No, what got to her heart, what Colonel Henry Blake added in a post script to her, very bluntly, is what let her know he really cared. The P.S. is what she re read now, sitting in her chair and digesting once again what he had to say

_P.S. Dump Frank, Margaret. He'll never leave his wife for you, and he will continue to break your heart and break down your spirit. You deserve much more out of a man than that._

He was right. She knew he was right. She cared for Frank but it would never happen with him. She wouldn't get the marriage, children or the house she eventually hoped to have one day. She had to find the strength and courage to end it once and for all. She just had to figure out the right way to go about it.

She brushed out her hair, got dressed for bed and laid on the cot taking Henry Blake's words and consideration with her.


End file.
